Growing up I was never one of those kids who was into toy cars. I did have a few matchbox vehicles, and though me and the neighborhood kids had fun watching them loop the loop, we eventually discovered it was way more fun to beat each other into submission with the lengths of flexible orange track. Eventually our parents got tired of us whacking the crap out of each other and tried to placate our violent tendencies with video games, which I’m sure helped turn us into the stable well-balanced sociopaths we are today.
The point is that while most of my American classmates were properly weaned on video games, there was always that weird kid who only wanted to play with his Tonka trucks. The kind of kid who eagerly tore ass down the stairs so he could watch the garbage truck rolling past, popping a boner for those poorly-produced VHS tapes meant for kids with vehicle fetishes, with titles like “Big Rigs Gone Wild.” I can only imagine that these undeveloped morons eventually grew into drooling man-children, the kind of strange and terrifying consumers eagerly awaiting the upcoming PC title “Delivery Truck Simulator.”
I literally cannot watch this trailer without cracking up. The key source of hilarity is the crappy generic rock song that plays beneath the simulated engine noises, ramping up a thrilling crescendo as we see the incredible delivery-bay unloading sequence, guitars rocking hard as we see the explosively realistic brake-light effects and HD-audio backup noises. Not to mention that the entire trailer showcases the “unmarked white van” portion of the game, and from what I know of creepy white vans I can only assume that little delivery driver is dropping off hooker skeletons or something of that nature.
I don’t know about you, but I play video games as a way to escape from the crushing pointlessness of my actual life. It’s a sort of fantasy escapism that lets me free the adorable anime sorceress surely trapped inside my hideous body (Atlus sent me Atelier Totori to play… leave me alone). The thought that there are people out there dying to live the fantasy life of a truck driver, fills me with an unfathomable terror. My first thought is of some crazy backwoods hillbilly with a barely functioning copy of Windows 95, sitting down to haul some virtual cargo while admiring the human skulls adorning his walls. Though now I wonder if somewhere out there, there’s some the middle-aged boardroom executive driving his slick Mercedes down the interstate. Gazing fondly at the big rigs and sadly wondering what life on the open road would’ve been like. The thrill of greasy truck-stop food, the excitement of kidnapping and enslaving teenage runaways…
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